Slipping
by elilover2
Summary: Really depressing, kind of odd, read and review. Peter misses his home, and Neverland isn't helping. So, after reflecting on his new depressed state, he decides to end it.


**A/N: So, this is AU. Peter is about 15. And, this will be as close to the actual storyline as I can make it...nah. It'll be really random and probably OOC, but you can judge for yourself. Review and such and I don't own Peter Pan.**

Peter's POV

I had a family once, I was almost certain of it. I had had a mother and a father, and maybe even a brother or sister. I had had a house and a nursery and a bed and all the things I was supposed to have. I had been happy, I could remember being happy, but I hadn't been satisfied. I had always wanted something more than what I had, and I had found that in Neverland with the pirates and the Lost Boys and Tinkerbell. They had been my satisfaction, but that was a few years ago.

I wasn't satisfied any more.

I found, as the days grew longer and longer without really changing, that I wasn't satisifed with Neverland. I wasn't satisfied with the pirates, or the Lost Boys, or Tinkerbell. I wasn't satisfied with the mermaids or the Indians. I wasn't satisfied with anything. Suddenly, I just wanted to go home.

And, seeing Wendy made me want it even more. The way she talked of home, yearned for it, made me yearn for mine too. My home that I had willingly left years ago, my home that hadn't satisifed me. Now, it was all that COULD satisfy me, and there was nothing I could do about that.

I had been lost too long.

I couldn't go back now, I was too lost. Lost forever. There had been a time when, if I had wanted to, I could have gone back. But, that time had passed, and now I was never to go back again. In that world, that desired world, I was as good as dead. It was a sad thing to think about, but it was a neccessary thing. I needed to reflect on and regret this fact simply to get by. Besides, it wasn't like I had a choice. Every spare chance I got, it was upon me, stealing my happiness and leaving me listless.

I didn't tell anyone about my want to, my need to, leave. I knew what it would do to them, my Lost Boys, so naieve. I knew what it would do to Tink, my closest companion, my confidante. It hurt to keep this from her, the only secret I'd ever withheld, though I knew it would hurt her worse to hear of my longing. She depended upon my living here, just like I depended upon my leaving. She needed me, just like I needed her not to need me.

And, my Lost Boys. They needed me too, though not as much. They were still young, still convinced that Neverland was all they needed. They still had places left to explore, adventures yet to have. They still had the novelty of the place coursing through their systems, and they would never understand my lack of it. They would never understand my desperation, my depression. They would eventually of course, when they grew up.

Because, you did grow up. Even in Neverland, you grew up. It started when you first thought of home, when you first dared to remember. The aging would start, sped up by any little thought or feeling towards a long forgotten bedroom. It would sneak up, barely noticeable at first, but becoming more so each day. It would creep up, settle in, and you would barely even care until it became a problem. Then, and only then, you would feel a bit nervous. However, at that time, you were too preoccupied with thoughts of home to actually be afraid.

I thought of home constantly now, remembering more each time I did. I could remember my mother's voice, my father's smell. I could remember my bedroom, the color of the walls, and the feel of the cool sheets on my bed. I could remember all these things, and they only added to my gloomy demeanor. They only added to the disappointment and the pain.

I made the best of it, though. Neverland, despite its faults, still made me happy. Visiting the Mermain Lagoon still brought me some joy, and fighting Captain Hook still thrilled me. However, none of these things satisfied me. I was happy, but not satisfied.

The situation was reversed.

Only, this time, there was no escape. I was stuck living the life I always had, having the same adventures again and again. I was happy, but becoming less so each day. Each day, I remembered more, and felt less, and aged more, and cared less. Each day I slowly slipped farther into a pit of unending monotony and bleakness. Each day, I became a little less Peter Pan and a little more...I wasn't even sure what.

I watched Wendy leave, watched her disappear into the night sky, and I was barely clinging to the edge with my fingertips now. I was slipping, ready to fall into the pit. I walked back to the hideout, listened to the Lost Boys chatter, and let myself fall. I wasn't even happy anymore, and I would never be happy again.

I wasn't Peter Pan anymore, I wasn't anyone. I wasn't happy, I wasn't even satisfied. I wasn't where I wanted to be, and I wasn't ever going to leave. It was a destitute way to be, and I was only too happy to slip away that night, heading deep into the forest, and prepare to never come back again.

I wasn't happy, I wasn't satisfied, so why should I have to live?


End file.
